The Holy Ghost is Moving You
by Cocoasuma
Summary: A collection of one shots written from Castiel's POV. Theses are all for a fic that is still a WIP called Choir Boy. Choir Boy is a Destiel fic from Dean's POV and I just really wanted to write some scenes from Cas's POV because I usually don't. This is what I call Poetic Smut meaning, it's not porn, but it's still sex. Read authors notes inside (indicated with bold lettering)


**So this is just a kinda sorta preview of a story I'm currently working on. You see, I say "Kinda Sorta" because The story is from Dean's POV, but as you will find, this is from Castiel's POV. I've decided that I'm going to post the sex scenes from Castiel's POV as oneshots and in the story they will be told from Dean's POV. So please enjoy what I am now calling "Poetic Smut" because believe it or not, I went through an entire Sex scene without using the word "Cock." lolz So maybe if you read this and find it isn't your cuppa tea, then don't worry Dean will be much more graphic on the details.**

"Are you sure about this?" Dean asks the me as I laid beneath him. I was having difficulty speaking at this point and just merely nodded, hoping there was enough light for him to see the nod, but not the worry on my face.

"Cas?" The nod had gone undetected.

"Yes, I'm ready." It was strange to hear my voice. It wasn't quivering like I had expected it too. It was as though I was someone else in the dark of the closet. Some more confident boy lying underneath someone who doesn't make my knees weak with want every time I see him. I liked this stranger in the dark.

Pursuing this new found confidence I reached out to Dean's naked chest. I had only ever admired his beauty with my eyes. Even when I ran my hands freely around his torso while snuggling on his sofa, my eyes had been part of the experience. But, in the darkness, I truly saw dean for the first time. My fingertips slid around every bump and scar, mapping out a clear image in my head. It was a more vivid picture than my eyes could comprehend. Every nook and cranny was exposed. They told my a story. His defined muscles from hours of working and heavy lifting with his father. The scar under his belly button where the hair had ceased to grow after nearly falling of the churches roof. The jerk of his skin as I put pressure on the bruise along his collarbone that was caused by my incessant sucking until the skin was raw. Dean Winchester was beautiful. I slowly built the memory of his skin hoping to recall it later when I was in front of a canvas. No not a canvas, maybe clay would be more appropriate for this level of physical detail.

Dean let me move as slow as wanted. It was only after I had made my way up to his face and then to his hair, that he took things further. Leaning in close I felt a trail of butterfly kisses lead down from my jaw to my neck, then down to my chest. I let his hands run themselves over my body and I even bucked slightly when he nipped playfully at my right hipbone before kissing it. His treatment was playful then medic as he repeated the actions all along the waistband of my boxers. I jerked up into each touch shamelessly. Soon enough I felt the last piece of fabric left on me slowly slip away. There was no need to try to hide, but regardless my knees slid together, vainly trying to hide my completely exposed body. I heard a chuckle from Dean and felt his hand slide in between my knees, gently splitting my insecurity as well as my legs.

He nuzzled me affectionately.

I rewarded him with a sound I didn't know my mouth could make.

Another chuckle.

Then I felt his hands behind my knees slowly pushing them upwards, further and further until my thighs were resting on my stomach. His hands didn't leave my legs and my hands didn't leave his hair. I could feel him wetting me. It was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced in my entire life. It was as if every sense I had was heightened by the darkness that surrounded us. Fingers were soon added to the mix and my mouth continued to surprise me. My hips had a mind of their own as the jerked and bucked relentlessly to Dean's touch. All the while he steadied me with his free hand. My toes curled in pleasure.

When Dean entered me that day, I cried into the crook of his neck. The pain was almost unbearable, but strikingly beautiful simply because it was Dean. Our breathing was sharp and short, synced as he moved in me. The tears didn't stop, but the pleasure took over soon enough and what was once darkness, became blinding white. I didn't pull away from his neck once. Even after we had finished and I was empty, yet strangely full, and we laid naked in that too small church wardrobe among the choir robes, I stayed nuzzled in his neck.

**So the best way to get more of these little scenes from Castiel's POV is too****_ Review_**** like it's nobodies business. Tell me what you guys liked, tell me what you didn't. I am here to serve you.**


End file.
